Fate: Tales from the Kaleidoscope
by Neoalfa
Summary: A collection of one-shots, previews of future stories and much more. Come and read stories that exists somewhere in the endless swirl of the Kaleidoscope.
1. Meeting in Reverse

**Fate: Tales from the Kaleidoscope  
**

As the title might suggest this is not a real story but a collection of plot bunnies I'm probably going to expand when I finished with my current works.

Here comes the first installment: Meeting in Reverse. Basically the story of a borderline Archer Shirou being summoned in King Arthur's era as he's about to die. Inspired in no small amounts by several stories of the same kind among which "Timeline of Fate" and others.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Meeting in Reverse (working title)  
Pairing: Shirou/Saber**

**- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
**_Transcending History and the World_  
_A tale of Soul and Swords_  
_Eternally retold_**  
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -**

He stood on an Hill of Swords, his bleeding body supported by the very weapons he once held in his hands and that now pierced him.

He was dying. There was no denying that truth. Every breath came harder than the previous and the taste of copper filled his mouth.

How long had he kept going? How many battlefields had he withstood undefeated? How many swords had he created? How many lives had he saved?

Too many to count. His sacrifice was immeasurable. He gave everything and asked for nothing in return.

And nothing was exactly what he found at the end of his path.

To any onlooker it would have been an admirable yet cursed existence, something that couldn't be understood but the Knight in Red had no regrets. He had no reason to curse the heavens, nor to detest his fellow humans for turning on him when he was fighting for their sake.

He knew that it was coming. As he grew older and his hair turned white under the strain of his own Magecraft, he came to realize that he and the other red clad warrior were one and the same, even if the differences in character were uncanny.

He was at peace with himself. He had done his best and saved as many lives as he could. Even if his ideals betrayed him at the end, not once he had betrayed them in return.

Even if he never managed to become the Hero he strived to be, even if reality tramped over his ideals in the end he had no regret. In the course of his life he had fought and loved plenty. There was nothing left in the world for him to cling to life against all hopes.

He had but a single wish left. To meet _her _once more.

He didn't know if his deeds had actually gained him the right to access _that place_ but as his blood abandoned him all he could do was pray.

And pray he did. Even if he knew it would fall on deaf ears, he prayed with all of his heart.

"I want to see _her_ again."

Those were the last word he uttered before his muscles finally fell limp.

As predicted, Emiya Shirou's life ended that day. What no one knew was that his prayer had been answered, even if not in the way he had dreamed of.

Yes, he would see her again, for even if his life had ended his battles hadn't. Because somewhere across the tides of time another wish, different in nature but similar in deeds, reached for him and pulled his soul away from its intended destination.

XXX

She stood on a Hill covered by swords.

Her body was failing, the grip on her sword was slipping and her enemy was attacking relentlessly. She had long since learned not to give up, to fight to her dying breath but her own impending defeat was clear in her eyes. Days of fighting had taken their toll, while her foe was well rested.

Four, no three more exchange of blows and her hands would give in. Years of fighting had taught them well about her own capabilities.

She was at her limit.  
She would be killed.  
Her kingdom would fall.  
Her dreams would turn to ashes.  
The sacrifice of countless brave men would be for naught.

'_No. No. No. No.'_

She couldn't just let it go. Not after all the blood that had been spilled. Not after her trusted companions had laid down their lives so that she could keep on walking. But stubbornness could only push her so far and, as predicted, the third blow from her opponent knocked out her sword for her grip.

She took a step backward, trying to delay the inevitable but she only managed to stumbled and fall on her back.

She couldn't afford to die. She had to keep fighting but she had nothing except her own life and her ideals but neither of them would serve her cause in her final moments. It was pointless and she knew it. She had lost _it_ so long ago. Her shield, her scabbard, the embodiment of her dreams. Why would it come now? Just because she called for it?

But she had nothing else left.

She pulled herself on her elbows and stretched her arm forward, as to intercept the killing blow.

"**AVALON!"**

She didn't know if it was a wish, a prayer or simply her last word. There was no light of gold and blue in response to her summon, and the killing blade only drew closer.

Her last thoughts, as she resigned herself to die, were for the comrades she had failed so badly.

_**CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!**_

The enemy's sword was pushed backward. Again and again the offending knight was forced to take a step back.

She couldn't believe her eyes.

Out of nowhere, a swordsman dressed in the finest red clothes she had ever seen stood between her and her would be killer. He wielded a pair of falchion swords identical in shape yet opposite in colors. A white and a black sword.

His entire existence was an absurdity in her eyes. He didn't wear an armor on the blooded battlefield were stray arrows could kill the strongest of knights.

He was pushing back Mordred, whose body was empowered by Morgana's accursed magic and whose skills with a sword were a match for her own.

Who? How? Why?

Who was this godsend warrior? Where had he come from?

He couldn't be from her army. Such an odd-looking and skilled swordsman would not have gone unnoticed to her eyes for long.

With a last, barely parried blow, Mordred was sent flying backward, like he was nothing more than a useless twig. It was out of pure luck that he managed to land on his feet on such an uneven ground.

She could swear she heard Mordred grit his teeth in frustration under his helmet for having being denied to land the killing blow on her.

The victory that had been in his grasp just moments prior had been taken away and the odds had been turned against him. Mordred was perhaps misguided but certainly not a fool. Without turning his back to the newcomer he carefully stepped back until he rejoined the ranks of his soldiers, who didn't dare to interfere in their leader's personal battle.

"RETREAT!" He shouted to his army. The scattered soldiers disengaged and quickly left the battlefield.

In that moment the man in red turned to her for the very first time. The world around her seemed to freeze, as she took in the appearance of her savior.

The sun was setting behind him, casting a red halo around him, further enacted by the clothes he was wearing. He had red hair and eyes of a shade of gold she had never seen before and he stood confidently upright, his muscled body outlined by his tight fitting clothes.

He didn't look like a knight, more like the scion of a noble family from a foreign country. His appearance didn't belong on the battlefield but his skills were undeniable refined through years of combat. What caught her attention however, was the look in his eyes.

He was undoubtedly confused. His golden eyes scanned her figure, searching for evident wounds and for something else she couldn't quite pinpoint.

"Your Highness," the familiar voice of Bedivere called from behind her. Her loyal knight soon reached her and placed himself between her and the Red Knight, sword at the ready. The fury she read in his eyes directed to the man in front of them told her he had misunderstood the situation and that he was just about to assail the red clad warrior.

"Bedivere," she said in a weak voice that didn't belong to her. "This man just saved my life."

Bedivere, whose eyes never left the nameless man, relaxed slightly at his king declaration.

"My apologies then, good sir, and my gratitude" the knight said sheathing his sword and turning to help his king back on his feet.

"Indeed," the king agreed. "You have done us a great service this day. Would you please tell me the name of the man I owe my life to?"

The man in red inclined his head curiously, still clearly confused. He barely opened his mouth to answer when her eyes caught a movement at her side.

An enemy soldier, clearly late on his retreat had just picked up her sword, Excalibur, from where it had fallen and was making a run for it.

"My sword!" she said short on breath.

"You scum," Bedivere snarled. He intended to chase after the thief but his king's arm draped around his shoulder prevented him from doing so.

Once again it was the Knight in Red to solve the situation. Neither her or Bedivere saw him move, but in a moment he was in front of the scoundrel who dared to touch a King's sword. A single punch to the chin and the man literally flew backward, dead or unconscious they couldn't tell.

The man in red picked and held her sword with a reverie not even her knights showed. Slowly he walked back to her, holding Excalibur with both hands, parallel to the ground in an offering gesture.

Now standing on her own feet she accepted her sword back and put it back in its scabbard.

"Thank you for returning my sword. I am your debt twice now, and I still don't know your name," she said with a voice stronger than before. Apparently her wounds weren't as bad as she had initially thought, because she was feeling better by the minute.

"Emiya Shirou," he introduced himself. An odd name for an odd existence. "And you are welcome. Now, if you don't mind me asking, were exactly are we?"

XXX

'_What the hell?'_ Shirou asked himself. It didn't take long for him to figure it out what had happened. He was clearly in the past, but the subject of the question was much broader than that. The last thing he remembered clearly was dying, then after a blink he was standing a few scant meters behind Saber on the hill of Camlann.

How the hell had he travelled through time and why the heck did he look like he was seventeen again? His skills looked unaffected but his body was shorter than he was used to and his magic circuits were as _stiff_ as they were when he was of that age.

Now, had wished to see Saber, Arturia Pendragon again but he didn't envisioned it happening like that. To make things worse he had just saved her life. Not that he regretted the act in itself, but he had just majorly screw up the timeline.

By the _'Butterfly Effect'_ even a minor change in the past would affect the future a great deal. Saving the _King of Knights_ from his fated death had probably thrown an major wrench in the normal course of history.

Time never liked paradoxes and the Counter Force of the world would mercilessly crush any interference. He didn't know if his intervention had already started that kind of reaction or if, according to the principles of the Second Sorcery, he had just started an entirely different timeline.

The situation was mind boggling. He wasn't even sure of _what_ he was. He felt normal enough despite the oddity of his existence in that time and place. He wasn't a phenomenon like a Servant as there was no formal contract in place, but he could feel a small trickle of Prana that went from Saber to him and back.

Furthermore….

Why the hell was Avalon doing back inside him again?

He had parted with Excalibur's scabbard at the end of the Fifth Grail War. He had personally returned it to its rightful owner and never once looked back at that choice. Yet he could feel it again, safely embedded inside him, humming quietly as if it rejoiced being back with him.

He didn't know how, but he was fairly certain that its existence in that point in time and his appearance had something to do with the Scabbard. It was after all an artifact made by the Fae that transcended time and space.

He racked his brain for anything that could further explain the situation but with him being crap as a Magus there wasn't much knowledge to help him in that endeavor. Sure, he wasn't as bad as he was back in those days, but due to his lack of talent he never explored the braches of Magic that didn't have a direct impact with his talents and his personal mission.

And then there was _her_.

So similar and yet so different, just like him. He sighed and shook his head. It wasn't the time to lose himself in reminiscences.

"Is there something on your mind, Emiya Shirou?" Bedivere asked from beside him as they followed the king back to Camelot with what was left of the army.

"No, nothing at all. I just never expected to run in such a situation during my travels."

He had pulled the card of being a wandering swordsman from a far away country, travelling the world to help the people he met on his path. It was close enough to the truth and it immediately gained the favor of Saber, no, King Arthur and his knights. As if saving the King's life wasn't enough for that.

He preferred to refer to the King as Arthur instead of Saber or Arturia, even in his mind, least he slipped badly if he wasn't paying attention. Better be safe than sorry after all.

Few people knew the real gender of the King of Britain and there was no reason for a completely unrelated passerby to know such a well protected secret.

"I suppose that anybody would be taken aback by such turn of events," Bedivere said. "The worse a traveler can usually stumble upon is the occasional group of bandits, not a full blown war. Still, I am grateful that you came when you did. "

"I must agree," Arthur said from right in front of them. "Your timely intervention has saved not only my life, but in all likelihood the entire kingdom as well. Had the army of Modred managed to win this battle they would have marched to Camelot undisturbed. We are in your debt more than words could possibly express."

"Not at all," Shirou replied humbly, "if anything it was my honor to come to your aid. To be able of assisting the rightful King of Britain is not something that happens every day."

"You knew who I was before coming to my aid? I don't believe we ever met before," Arthur said eyeing him even more carefully.

"I never saw you prior of this day, Your Majesty," he admitted. It just happened that the first he met was a couple of millennia after that specific day. Too bad for her that his personal timeline was a tad screwed up compared to hers. "But tales of your deeds have reached far beyond the border of your kingdom, along with the description of the sacred sword you wield. I don't believe anyone could mistake that blade and the person who wields it."

It was a bit of a stretch, but not even that much. In another time a certain category of people would automatically recognize the wielder of a weapon once its name or appearance was revealed. For that purpose Saber kept Excalibur hidden by Invisible Air until she had to unleash its true power.

"I understand," the King finally acquiesced. She didn't look all that convicted of his explanation but it looked like she was about to question her savior, something for which Shirou was extremely grateful. He had hastily put up a cover up story and didn't want to dwell on details he had yet to think about. Dodging uncomfortable questions and finding answers top his own was his top priority at the moment.

"Where is that you said you came from?" Bedivere asked.

"I'm afraid that you might never have heard of the country where I was born. It's so distant from here that I think no map in your country even mentions it."

"Certainly you jest," Bedivere answered. "It would have taken you years to come from such a place."

"You are absolutely right, Sir Bedivere. In fact, despite my young appearance I'm over forty years old."

"How is that even possible?" The knight asked bewildered. "You don't look a day older than twenty."

"I believe it must have been some sort of Magecraft," Shirou replied, "although I don't even know when or how it happened. One day I woke up and I looked like my seventeen years old self."

Feeling rather smug with himself, Shirou idly wondered if that was how Kotomine felt when he said the complete truth and yet managed to deceive his listeners.

"Forgive me if say this Sir Emiya, but your tale seems unbelievable. I think that if you hadn't already shown us your noble character I would not believe a word you said. You seem like a character from a fairy tale."

"No offense taken, Sir Bedivere," Shirou chuckled. How ironic it was the people that he first knew about through legends considered him like a fictional character.

They continued their march and finally reached Camelot at dusk. Shirou at to admit that the legend far surpassed reality. The castle was a typical construction for that era as was the town that grew around it.

-oOo-

The populace welcomed the victorious king with shuts of joy but the sovereign wasn't in the mood for celebrations. She had lost too many men and friends in this campaign and she had survived only thanks to a well timed miracle. It was a victory in name only but she couldn't afford to sulk. She had a duty to uphold. Her kingdom needed her and she would stand upright and face her responsibilities.

"Sir Emiya, you are welcome to stay in the castle. Allow me to partially repay my debts through hospitality."

"You have my gratitude, your Highness. I never had the honor of stepping inside the walls of a castle before."

It was Bedivere the one to express the mutual surprise to his statement.

"Is that so? By the way you hold yourself and the clothes you wear I had thought you were of noble stock."

"Not at all but my first sword teacher was actually a king from a fallen country. I suppose that I have learned not only how to wield a sword from him. As for the clothing it was gifted to me by a priestess as token of gratitude."

"Such an expensive looking clothes were gifted to you? What sort of task have you performed to gain such favor?"

"I… I killed her father," he answered sourly. Yeah, no matter how he put it that sounded bad.

"That is…. Uhm," Bedivere said at loss for words.

"Perhaps we should postpone this tale to another time," the king interjected. "Bedivere please escort sir Emiya to a room and ask the maids to take care of his every need."

"It shall be done, your highness," the knight answered immediately, with no trace of his previous befuddlement. "Follow me this way, sir Emiya."

With a nod Shirou walked behind Bedivere, considering his next course of actions. The situation at hand was too mysterious to contemplate what to do. He needed to understand the mechanisms behind his summoning, reincarnation or whatever it was that had brought him there.

It certainly was the greatest mystery he had ever come across in his life and his mind was in a storm. Could he go back to his original time? Should he? Last thing he remembered he died, painfully so.

True, he had no regrets back in his old life but that didn't mean that there weren't still things he could and should do if he had the change. There was also Rin…

No. That line of thought wouldn't lead him anywhere. They had reached an understanding years ago. That he would meet his end on the battlefield was something they had accepted years before. They both knew it but…

… she would cry for him. He knew she would even if she would never admit it.

Sentimentalism aside he had no particular hurry. He was a good thousand years in the past. Time wasn't something he lacked at the moment. He would have to figure out the situation before planning anything.

"Is there something wrong, sir Emiya?" Bedivere asked noticing his pensive mood.

"I was just thinking of my home country."

"Have you been gone for long?"

"Yes… I haven't been there in a long time. Sometime it feels like it's been… a thousand years."

Understanding the mood of their guest Bedivere asked no more. Shirou followed in silence already exploring in his mind the causes and the implications of this new adventure.

* * *

Meeting in Reverse- Chapter 1 (END)

Coming next: Fate/Dark Side of Heaven


	2. Dark Side of Heaven

**Fate/Dark Side of Heaven: Bullet for a Sin  
Pairing: Shirou/Rider**

**(Original concept by: Cloud Link Zero)**

_Deception, betrayal and backstabbing. Every underhanded tactic was accepted, even welcomed in the bloody battle for the right of possession over the artifact said to be able of granting any single wish._

_There was only one immutable truth, a basic principle that was the core of the entire conflict: seven Master would have to summon seven Servants and pit them against each other until only one remained standing. _

_Not one more, not one less. _

_That was the only thing that Emiya Kiritsugu was sure he could believe without doubt. The unmoving wall he could entrust his back to. The foundation upon which he could safely build his strategies._

_And that base had just crumbled in front of his eyes, taking down with it over nine years of careful preparations, information gathering, physical conditioning and Thaumaturgy training._

_There were…. Eight._

-oOo-

**Location: Fuyuki city docks – Time: - 149:50:16**

Under the command of his Master, Archer disappeared from the battlefield in a shower of golden motes, taking away with him his seemingly never-ending stock of Noble Phantasms.

Saber, Lacer and Rider remained there to contemplate the appearance and power of the arrogant golden Servant and his exchange of blows against the crazed Berserker. For a moment the battle had stopped, the swirling power leaving only a sense of void that wouldn't remain still for long, just like the eye of a storm.

It was none other than the Black Knight to disrupt the stagnancy with his enraged scream.

"**Raaaaahhhh**," he shouted throwing his head backward before dashing toward the King of Knights with a previously unseen level of rage. The pole he wielded as a weapon, twisted by his power into being a makeshift Noble Phantasms, clashed against the invisible blade of the female Servant.

With only one usable arm, the only thing she could accomplish in spite of her otherworldly skills was to deflect each blow, but she was being pushed back nonetheless.

It was only thanks to the intervention of Lancer who sided with Saber that managed to turn the odds in her favor until….

"Lancer," the voice of Archibald El-Melloi echoed from his hiding place. "I command you to help Berserker… and take down Saber."

She only had a moment to jump back before Gáe Dearg and Gáe Buidhe lashed out at her.

"I'm sorry… Saber," the magic-bound Lancer grunted out apologetically while his body calmly strode toward her, now with the Black Knight by his side as his forced ally.

In a moment they charged at her with blinding speed but as they were about to reach her something happened.

-oOo-

Kiritsugu was aiming at the head of Lancer's Master through the thermal scope of his sniper rifle. A little pressure and his head would explode in a shower of blood, cutting the contract with the Servant that would probably be shaken out of his Command Seal coercion.

He was about to pull the trigger when something whizzed through the air fast enough for him to miss the shape entirely. Further down at his side, where the confrontation between Servants was about to reach a most unfavorable climax, the invisible projectile slammed on the floor, exploding with enough power to send both Lancer and Berserker flying, thought the air.

Immediately Kiritsugu sought out the origin of the attack, but all he managed to see through his thermal scope was a blur of red, streaking through the night toward the heated battlefield.

-oOo-

Iskandar, King of Conquerors froze with his arms half raised. He had every intention of running his Gordius Wheel over Lancer and Berserker, who much to his distaste were about to take against Saber two on one. Then he would give Lancer's Master a piece of his mind for trampling over the pride of his Servant and soiling a sacred battle between knights.

That was when something ripped the air and exploded on the ground, sending the offending Servants flying in opposite directions. Berserker slammed against the containers that lined the docks while Lancer flipped in midair and landed gracefully on the ground a few meters away.

"What the…?" Lancer half asked, befuddled by the sudden events. Whatever the projectile was it left no traces behind but there was no denying that it had been a long range attack.

In spite of that notion all of the presents immediately excluded Servant Archer, as he had already left the scene a while back, and in any case didn't seem to care about other people's problems.

Assassin was supposed to be death, but even then it wasn't the type of Servant to have such powerful and long reaching skills or Noble Phantasms.

The most probable culprit was then Caster but the attack possessed an obvious physical aspect which made it unlikely to be a pure exercise of Magecraft. Could it have been the joint work of a Master its Servant?

Further speculations were halted when the roar of the Black Knight echoed from the twisted pile of metal he had been flung into. Part of the container torn by his body rose in the air, engulfed by the same black fog that denoted his claim over every item he turned into his Noble Phantasms. Much to everyone surprise the metal panel was flung in the direction of the Servant of the Sword, travelling at a speed that only the Berserker Class had the strength to bestow on an object of that shape and size.

Saber fighting instinct took over and her sword effortlessly split the offending box of metal in two parts that continued their flight past her without losing speed. However, the King of Knights had failed to consider her position in regards to her surrogate Master's, who was still frozen on the spot a few meters behind her, unmoving like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Irisviel!" She shouted as her body twisted around and her legs bent to leap in rescue of her friend.

She wouldn't make it in time. She had far less than half a second to cover the distance and take Irisviel out of the way. Even the burst granted from the release of the Wind King would take too long to build up to be of any use and she saw the same realization in the eyes of the white haired woman.

She could help the sudden pang of sorrow in her chest at the prospect of once again failing someone who trusted her with her life.

With a loud, echoing crash the metal plate slammed on the ground where Irisviel used to be.

-oOo-

Kiritsugu observed everything from his elevated position. He watched with adrenaline induced perceptions the impending doom of his wife getting closer. To his relief and confusion he also managed to notice the blur coming at her from the side, snatching her frame away from the impact point a fraction of second before her death turned into reality.

_He_ stopped his course a few meters to the side, with a trembling Irisviel safely held in his arm like a child.

His appearance was... unusual. He wore a pair of tattered jeans and a white shirt with a single blue sleeve. Oddly enough the arm poking out of the sleeveless side was of a darker skin tone compared to the rest of his visible body, which amounted to only the upper half of his face seeing how the lower half was hidden behind a red cloth, wrapped around his neck and mouth like a rough looking scarf. His hair was of strange shade of graying red and his eyes were of two different colors: one gold and other a dull gray.

"Who… are you?" Irisviel asked looking up at her savior, finding her voice again and voicing everyone's question at the same time.

"I am… Servant… _Faker_…."

-oOo-

**Location: ? – Time: + 87.954:32:12**

_Dark as the black night._

_The strongest sword he had ever seen was in his hands. The effort of pulling it out was almost enough to entirely shatter his already unstable mind. Countless memories were gone. People he cared about were forgotten. The girl who had sworn to be his sword and shield had been erased. Names and faces were an indistinguishable blur._

_Only one still shined clear through the statics that fogged his brain._

'Sakura,'_ he thought, clinging to the memory of her shy smile. _'My promise to you…'

_He couldn't keep it. He couldn't go back. He wouldn't be able to. Right there and then he would die, destroyed from within by a power that was his and at the same time it was not. He would be completely invaded, consumed by the Inner World of another self that could no longer be him._

_But it was fine. His crime had judged him like it was right. He had betrayed everything that made him himself, so it was just fitting that he would crumble down and die. He didn't care about his life after all, that was the one thing that didn't change. The focus of his distortion had narrowed from everyone to a single person, but in the end didn't chance in form._

_He had but one wish left and he expressed it fully in his mind as he swung his blade down._

_'I want to save her. I want to save Sakura,' he thought._

_"__**VORTIGERN**__!" his voice shouted instead. And the blade fell. The burst of dark light streamed from it and engulfed the soon to be born God. In its uterus it screamed, wailed and cursed like it was meant to be._

_And like it was meant to do he also heeded the desire of the one who last stood to claim the prize._

**YOUR WISH SHALL BE GRANTED!**

-oOo-

**Location: Fuyuki city docks – Time: - 146:45:26**

"Ridiculous," Lancer hissed eyeing the self declared Servant. "There is no such a thing like a Faker Class."

"Are you okay?" said Faker asked the woman in his arms, completely ignoring the Servant of the Lance's protests.

"Ah…. I'm fine," Irisviel answered with a light blush on her cheeks as she realized the embarrassing position she was being held into.

"That's a relief," he answered helping her to get back on her feet. She immediately took a few steps away from her mysterious savior. His intervention definitely saved her from a painful if not deadly situation, but that didn't mean she was willing to trust him just because of that.

Who was he, what were his motives? So long as those answered escaped her exercising caution was the best course of action.

"Irisviel are you hurt?" Saber asked running at her and putting herself between him and her charge

"I'm fine Saber. I don't have a scratch," Irisviel answered without removing her gaze from the strange man.

Saber eyed the newcomer with an inquiring glance, her invisible sword clearly ready to react to any and every threatening move on his part.

_Faker_ really didn't seem to be bothered by that but regarded her with an examining look himself.

"Instead of pointing your sword at me you should…"

**"GRRAAAAAH!"** Berserker howled charging once more toward the target of his apparent obsession.

"… take care of that persistent admirer of yours," he concluded pointing at said individual.

It took Saber less than a tenth of a second to decide that between a potential foe and a declared one it was better to turn her attention to the latter.

"Irisviel, retreat to a safe position," she ordered moving to intercept her enemy. As she approached she noticed the still Command-bound Lancer moved to support the Black Knight once more…

… only to be forced to step back again Faker jumped in front of him.

"Sorry… ganging up on a woman is not something I can overlook. I'll be your opponent for the time being."

Lancer swung his weapons at him but the Faker simply took a few steps back.

"It's not like it was my choice," he growled offended by the jibe at his honor.

"I'm aware of that and I'm not holding it against you," the Faker answered as he kept himself outside of Lancer's reach but still in a position that forced the Servant to realize that he couldn't get to Saber without going through him.

Command seals were a double edged sword after all. They could bend reality and allow Servant to perform things that went beyond their normal skill set and power, but when used improperly they also bound them to a certain behavior until the order was fulfilled or the power worn off.

Helping Berserker and defeat Saber was the order Lancer had been imposed. In order to comply he would have to get there first, if necessary by killing and destroy everything in his path. Therefore, if Faker made himself an obstacle Lancer was forced to engage him, but if the newcomer moved even slightly out of the shortest route Lancer needed to follow his orders the latter was forced to switch to that course.

However, the Command Seal wasn't such an inflexible system to let the Servant be caught in it. When Lancer realized that there was no reaching Saber without removing the Faker the priority of the Seal switched to that new target instead.

"If you don't get out of the way now I'll be forced to kill you," Lancer warned. But his body was already in motion, both spears already moving to strike the enemy to death.

Gáe Dearg hissed ominously toward Faker's face…

**_CLANG_****!**

… and was halted in its course but nothing less than another Gáe Daerg.

"What the…?" he asked a moment before leaping back, out of the reach of the Gáe Buidhe wielded by the other Servant.

Save for Berserker, who was still madly slamming a pole against Saber's sword, everyone focus had completely shifted to the second pair of spears wielded by the strange man.

"That can't be," Lancer hissed, eyeing the spears warily. It was pretty much what every onlooker was thinking at that point.

Faker didn't bother commenting the remark; instead he shifted lightly backward, assuming the same initial stance Lancer had taken during his initial bout against Saber. Then he spun both spears around wildly showing a prowess worthy of Diarmuid himself and not just someone who held a mere replica of his chosen weapons.

It was so flawless that it was almost a slap in Lancer's face. The stance was so perfectly identical; the movement so much like his own that he couldn't notice any substantial difference that wasn't caused by the difference between their respective heights.

"How is that even possible?"

"It looks like you haven't been taking me seriously up until now, have you? I am Servant Faker. With a Class like that, what did you think my specialization could be?"

He didn't wait for an answer as he needed none. Capitalizing on his opponent's shock, Faker darted forward with a speed that was on par with Lancer's and struck at him with just as much precision and strength. The only thing the Diarmuid could do was to fight a surreal battle against himself.

-oOo-

Tohsaka Tokiomi gripped his chair with enough strength to make the wood groan in protest.

An Eight Servant? Faker Class? What in the Root's name was this treachery?

He thought the man to be an imposter, but according to Kirei's reports coming directly from one of his Assassin's eyes, this so called Faker was pushing Lacer back using the same Noble Phantasms and skills of said Servant. There was no way something like that could be human. Even the Organization's Enforcers and the Church's Executioner couldn't keep up with entities such as incarnated Heroic Spirits. Probably only an exponent of the Shinso or a high ranked Dead Apostle Ancestor could hope to compare but the odds were still not in their favors.

Furthermore this ability to replicate Noble Phantasms and skills sounded too much like a Noble Phantasm itself. Could it be that he, the current head of one of the founding families, didn't know something about the Grail?

The perspective was… grim. If there was one thing he ignored about the system it could mean that there were more. The situation was entirely too screwed up to consider continuing with his initial strategies. He'd have to play his hand even more carefully, especially now and he had used a Command Seal.

Things had just become entirely too messed up.

-oOo-

In the dark basement of the church Kotomine Kirei watched the battle unfold through the eyes of one of his Servants. The so called Faker had immediately capitalized his attention beyond the mere mystery of his existence.

His appearance, clothing, behavior, body language seemed to hint at a burden he was carrying. He was without a doubt a haunted man.

What was his plight? What fueled his cause? What caused the birth of an individual without a strength or technique that he could call his own but able to replicate others'?

There were so many questions and very little answers. Kirei found himself utterly captivated by that tormented soul but the reason for this complete escaped his conscious mind. Perhaps he had just discovered a more interesting subject than Emiya Kiritsugu.

If that was the case he would better keep a close eye on him. A very close eye.

-oOo-

"Idiot," she muttered as she watched from afar. "That wasn't part of the plan."

It was too soon for them to act out in the open. They didn't have enough elements to control the events properly but in hindsight she should have seen it coming. Even though he had thrown away his ideals he still wasn't the kind of person who could stand aside and watch people die and suffer. If he did he would no longer be the person Sakura fell in love with.

This meant they would have to rethink the entire scenario. They could no longer afford to move in the shadows now that he exposed himself. And what was that Servant Faker idiocy? Where did he come out with that stuff?

Then again he was handling the impromptu situation quite well. Lancer was positively stunned by having to fend off his own style and weapons, and the rest of the onlooker certainly didn't know what to make of the current turn of events.

It worked well, she had to admit. Planting the seed of doubt in the minds of the participants was the first important step they had set for himself. It wouldn't stop the war, that was certain but they didn't need to do that. Their primary objective was another anyway.

She could understand now why Sakura loved him as much as she did. Even if he had thrown away his ideals, he didn't regret a single thing. So, she too didn't regret her choice.

_'In order to save Sakura, please lend me your strength.'_

Those were the words they spoke to each other. The common objective they declared to forge a contract like no other before. He didn't stagger on his chosen path so she would trust him as much as Sakura did. Yes, right there and then she had no problem with calling him Master.

-oOo-

**Location: Emiya Household– Time: + 87.944:15:32**

_"Are you sure about this?" the red haired boy asked, eyeing her as she stood in the middle of the summoning circle._

_"Sakura asked me to protect you, therefore I shall do so. Do you find the terms of our cooperation to be unsatisfactory?"_

_"Not at all. Thank you for trusting me enough to do this."_

_"My Master seems to believe in you a lot. The least I can do is to trust that faith myself."_

_"Very well. Let us begin then, Rider," he lifted his hand and she felt the spark of energy that denoted the activation of his Circuits. Beneath her, the Circle hummed and lighted to life._

**_"I hereby propose…"_**

-oOo-

**Location: Fuyuki city docks – Time: - 144:50:16**

Lancer skidded was forced back under the onslaught. Things were far worse that he had initially thought. Facing his own technique and weapons was a tremendous thing but not one he couldn't overcome. Those were his skills and no one knew them better than he did.

And yet, every time he intended to exploit one of the holes in his technique to turn the table against his opponent he found himself blocked and under attack.

"How…," he practically growled. "How am I losing to a mere imitation?"

Instead of attacking, Faker leaped back, still keeping himself between Lancer and Saber.

"Your skills are indeed amazing, Servant of the Lance, however…"

He stepped forward, Gáe Buidhe and Gáe Daerg spinning at his side like twin whirlwinds.

"… there is no rule that says that an imitation cannot surpass the original."

"This is absurd," he muttered in disbelief.

"Here I come, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne. Are you ready to die in service of your lord? "

**"That is enough Lancer," **a voice echoed from every direction at once. **"We are done for this night."**

Without a sound of acknowledgement, Lancer faded into spirit form, leaving the battlefield in utter humiliation.

"Feh," Faker scoffed at Lancer's Master. "A spoilsport till the end."

He then turned to Berserker, who was still engaged in his battle with Saber. Perhaps detecting the shift in the battle-flow, Berserker leapt away from Saber and stopping several meters away from both of them. He then disappeared as well, undoubtedly forced into spirit from by his Master.

Without a word, Faker leaped away onto a row of containers.

"Wait," Saber called out. "Who are you? Why did you involve yourself in this battle?"

"My reasons are my own," he replied dismissing the spears in his hands. "But I shall part with a warning."

A strange looking bow formed in his hand, followed by an equally strange looking arrow. He cocked the projectile on the bow and with utmost fluidity he shoots toward the highest crane on the docks.

Servant Assassin didn't have time to consider withdrawal. The _'arrow'_ passed through his chest like it was made of paper, ripping his chest apart.

His body fell on the ground, blood spewing from the mouth behind the mask.

"The Holy Grail War is a scam," Faker announced. "The Church is aligned with Tohsaka, as is Assassin's Master, Kotomine Kirei. From the very beginning this War was a deception, and the Grail is not what you believe it to be."

"What do you mean by that?" a timid Waver Velvet asked from his place in Rider's chariot.

"I will tell you no more," Faker declared. "I have no proof of what I say so I'll spare the words. I shall give you a hint though. During the Third War there was another unorthodox Servant, summoned by the Einzbern. Find out who it was and you'll be a step closer to the truth."

"Wait," Saber called out once more but she was cut off by Faker before she could voice her question.

"King of Knights," Faker said aloud. "No matter what your wish is, the Grail cannot make it become true. Only despair and hopelessness lie at the bottom of that wretched cup. If you don't believe me, seek out the truth for yourself."

And with that he leaped beyond the line of container, disappearing from view. The people who remained were too dumbfounded by his words to pay notice to the fact that he hadn't gone in spirit from before leaving.

The only certain thing at that point was that the War had just gotten a hell more interesting, and perhaps scary.

* * *

Fate: Dark Side of Heaven: Bullet for a Sin - Chapter 1 (END)

Coming next: **No Fate**


	3. Empty Uroboros

**Empty Uroboros**  
(Published: 03.11.2013 - Original Concept: Heliosion)

* * *

The blade fell, clattering upon the ground. The knight in blue groaned and faded from existence, her dreams and hopes vanishing with along with her. Only the Golden King remained standing barely sparing a glance for the spot where the woman who caught its attention had failed to meet his expectation.

"A pity," he said, turning to face his possession that was floating behind him, spilling its blackened contents upon the unknowing world. It seemed that the Grail that everyone wanted to obtain so much wasn't as Holy as they thought it to be. Nevertheless, it belonged to the King and the King would take it.

… Even though someone wasn't too keen on allowing him to do that.

* * *

Too late, Emiya Kiritsugu realized. Saber was gone as proven by the lack of Command Seals on his hands. Only Gilgamesh was left now and the Grail had already materialized. He couldn't allow that accursed thing to reach full power, not now that he knew what sort of malignant will it secretly had.

Saber was gone and using her Anti-Fortress Noble Phantasm was no longer an option. Still, the vessel of the Grail -_Irisviel-_ was nothing but a carefully crafted Magic Circuit therefore… his Mystic Code should be able to affect it to some degree, or at least he hoped so.

He run into the room just in time to see Gilgamesh reaching for the cup. There wasn't time to think about possibilities, no opportunity to dwell on what ifs and consequences. All he knew was that things could hardly go worse than that and with that knowledge he aimed his Thompson and shoot, one, two, three times.

The cup flew away from the King's grasp, who immediately turned his angry red eyes upon the mongrel who dared to strike his possession. The air behind him turned gold and a single blade came out from the Gate of Babylon, its tip pointed to strike to death the insignificant men.

But nothing like that happened. As it flew away, the Grail cracked under the effect of Kiritsugu's dual Origin of Sever and Bind. Unable to properly process the power that coursed through it any longer, it exploded violently, bathing the presents in mud and cursed flames. Flames that immediately spread through the building and to the town outside, seeking with its malice every living being, consuming everything in its path until every single human being had died painfully.

* * *

The King stood admits the fire, completely unscathed by the power of the explosion and watched at the destruction its possession was bringing forth. It annoyed him a little that the spirit that resided within the Grail was killing his subjects, but then again he was the first who thought that this ugly world needed to be cleansed from the pests that sullied it.

At a distance he saw Saber's Master standing on his feet and observe the spectacle he contributed in creating. For a moment the King of Heroes entertained the thought of killing him, but a more careful glance told him that he was already condemned to die slowly and painfully, not to speak of the desperation he could see reflected in his eyes at the results of his actions. Exactly what he deserved for the arrogance of damaging the King's possession.

* * *

Kiritsugu's heart clenched in despair. He had failed. Destroying the vessel only served to spill the contents faster. The curse of the Grail – _Angra Mainyu_ – was spreading through the city like an untamable fire of pain and death, a fire that would not cool until it had burned every single life within is reach.

And yet… that was not what scared Kiritsugu the most. What terrified him was the knowledge that humanity would not go down without a fight, that its will to survive would reject this curse with all of its power with the chance of making even more victims than the Grail could by itself. That will to survive at all costs known to the Magi with the name of Alaya.

* * *

Differently from what most people thought, Alaya did not wait for the last possible moment to deploy its resources. When a threat of great enough power to annihilate humanity was detected into the world with no one both capable and willing to stop before it could escalate too much it took steps to insure humanity's continued existence picking the most appropriate tool from its ranks.

Therefore, when Angra Mainyu manifested into the world as a power that affected an widespread area, Alaya picked a soul with an appropriate set of skill to contain and eliminate the threat. And so it reached for the Throne, where a soul condemned to eternal servitude was waiting for the moment he was needed again.

* * *

Perhaps because he was dreading it, Kiritsugu was the first to notice its presence and turned to look behind his shoulder. The King followed shortly, wondering what could have distracted the insignificant man's attention from its own damnation.

The human's eyes widened in terror, while the King's narrowed in loathing. The third person paid them no attention instead, muttering something under his breath that neither of them could hear, until he reached the last line of his Aria.

Then, like Kiritsugu had feared, Alaya showed him that it was more than willing to fight fire with fire, as both him and the King both where engulfed by flames once more.

* * *

The landscape of the city had been turned into a raging hell where life could not be sustained. People and building turned to ashes under a power that no human mind could truly understand. Yet, in this raging inferno, a single boy kept walking, lost in a daze of hopelessness and despair. With heavy steps he only delayed the inevitable, for not even a miracle could save his life.

He finally fell on his back, too exhausted to continued his struggle. He laid there on the blackened ground, waiting for the fire he could already see advancing to finish what it started.

But this flames didn't touch him. moving past him and engulfing everything in sight with their blinding whiteness. When the boy opened his eyes again he was in a different place. A barren land void of everything expect for countless swords, planted in the ground like makeshift tombstone of unnamed souls. It was so much like a graveyard that the boy thought that each blade was in memory of the people who died around him. However his attention lingered only briefly on the expanse of blades, shifting immediately to the only other living person within his sight.

Clad in red with white hair, he stood with his back turned to the boy, holding himself tall and strong, uncaring from the heat emanating from the swirl of darkness in the distance. He stepped forward his hand reaching for a beautiful sword that seemed to inch toward him as if wanting to be grasped. His hand wrapped around the hilt and he dislodged it from the ground holding it beside him.

In his hands the blade shone with holy light, so brightly that the boy could not stare directly at it without pain. The man in red lifted the blade over his head and with a shout -**_Excalibur_****!** – he swung it at the darkness in front of him. Light erupted from the blade, rushing at the mass of malice that swelled without end and engulfed it with its brilliance.

When the deafening roar quieted down there was no longer trace of the shadow. The only things that remained where the warrior clad in red, the never-ending expanse of swords and a rusty sky filled with humongous gears.

Then and only then the warrior turned around and looked at the boy behind him. Grey met Gold and the boy knew – _just knew_ – what this person before him was, what he represented and the burden he carried. A life following an ideal, living, breathing, fighting and bleeding for it, only to be betrayed by that dream at the very end. It was tremendous and painful, but even though the boy knew what awaited at the end of that path he couldn't help but find that ideal incredibly beautiful.

The man in red seemed to understand the boy's thoughts and regarded him with a look of pity and he would have done something to dissuaded him from his foolish idea if the leash that bind him wasn't so short. Instead he could only shake his head and sigh, disappearing into thin air with the hill of swords as soon as the boy fell unconscious.

The boy's mind was too traumatized to memorize everything that had happened removing many and many things that could not be recorded at once. Still, he slept peacefully dreaming of swords and of a man dressed in red. A man he needed to surpass in order to reach the seemingly ever-distant utopia.

* * *

The King of Heroes faded into a shower of golden motes. His life was cut short, ironically, by a shower of swords so similar to the one he enjoyed to employ to dispose of his enemy. Kiritsugu didn't know who the man in red was and why he had all those weapons to begin with. While he could understand Gilgamesh ownership of all the treasures in the world he could not fathom why a Counter Guardian possessed a similar stock, nor why he could wield the blade that belonged exclusively to the King of Knights, though he imagined it had something to do with the power he manifested: a Reality Marble.

He didn't know his identity and he didn't care. All that mattered was that the Grail had been finally stopped and that the Counter Guardian had done so without claiming another life but that of Gilgamesh who saw fit to put himself in the way of a greater power. All that was left to do now was to provide help for the unconscious boy who would soon die from his burns if he didn't do something to prevent it.

Without a second thought he removed Avalon from within his body and implanted it into the boy's, hoping that the residual Prana from his deceased Servant would be enough to save his life. He couldn't do anything else, but even if it was just one life he would make sure to save it, no matter what.

* * *

**Empty Uroboros - Chapter 1 (END)**

* * *

AN: Yeah, the scheduled "No Fate" has been replaced by this little piece conceived by Heliosion. He's planning to write a full story out of this concept but he's currently playing through the VN as I suggested. The animation from FSN, with the exception of Fate/Zero, doesn't make a good base for writing a decent fic about this universe.

That's it for now. See ya next with "No Fate".


	4. No Fate

(Published: 05.14.13)

* * *

Emiya Kiritsugu's life was draining away. The curse that corroded his body had almost completed its course. But before his mortal shell finally gave in he still had a very important thing to do, one last act he needed to perform, both out of necessity and as a personal vengeance.

He didn't care for his own life. He never did. His fears weren't for his own unavoidable, death but for the people he would leave behind.

_ 'Illya, Shirou.'_

His thoughts went to his children, two victims of a foolish quest for power. Seven Masters and seven Servant paired against each other to claim the all-powerful Holy Grail. How many had died because of that wretched cup? How many more would lose their lives in the name of a dream that couldn't be accomplished?

Not a single one, if Emiya Kiritsugu could do anything about it.

In the years following the end of the Fourth conflict, with his body being eaten from the inside out he took the necessary steps to prevent that tragedy from repeating again, setting a number of high caliber explosives along the leylines that crossed the city, powering the Grail System. Their simultaneous explosion would alter the flow of energy, forever sealing the accursed artifact and the curse it carried within.

For maximum effect he intended to set the charges to go off in forty years, so that the power accumulated by the Grail would destroy it from the inside out when the explosives damaged its outer mechanism.

However, has death approached, Kiritsugu felt that he shouldn't stall. There were too many variables, too many things that could go wrong in such a long span of time. His own spite was also part of the reason why he decided to anticipate this plan.

He had sacrificed his wife Irisviel to obtain the Grail, only to be forced to throw it away when he discovered its corruption. He had lost his daughter Illyasviel, forever beyond his reach in the castle of the Einzbern. His latest attempt at breaking through the Boundary Fields that surrounded the Einzbern's estate had failed like all the previous, leaving Kiritsugu more bitter and resentful than he had been in years.

He was cursed to die filled with regrets? So be it, but let it be known that the Magus Killer would not go do down alone.

Standing by himself on the hills that overlooked Fuyuki, Kiritsugu toyed with the safety of the remote in his hands.

**_Flip up. Flip down. _**

Flashes of memories crossed his mind.

The warm smile of the kind-hearted woman hat had brought a spark of happiness into his life_. 'Irisviel.'_

**_Flip up. Flip down._**

The snow haired princess born from his blood. The only good thing he ever brought into the world._ 'Illya._'

**_Flip up._**

And finally the red haired boy, the only life he managed to save from the inferno that his own foolishness had created.

"Shirou…"

**_Click_**_._

* * *

**No Fate**  
(Shirou/Bazett)

* * *

It was a evening like many others for the sixteen years old Emiya Shirou. The high school student, secret Magus in training and hero wannabe was on his way back home after work. As usual, the Copenhagen was very busy on Friday nights and just as usual Shirou had to handle that share of work that his coworkers ditched on him when things got rough.

Not that he cared for that. He liked to help and the extra cash came in handy. Not that he needed any, considering that Kiritsugu had left him his house and a considerable amount of money. Money that Shirou had no intention to touch.

Besides, he preferred to pull his own weight rather than relying on other people's kindness and he had to pay for his studies later in life if he planned to make something out of himself.

Not that he was that great of a student and as a Magus he was probably laughable. He wanted to be a hero but lately he had come to realize that unless he decided to get a grip and make something out of himself he would hardly be able to help himself, much less anybody else.

So he started applying himself more to his studies, with the result of a sensible improvement in his grades. He was still a far cry from a honorary student but at least he was no longer below average. If he kept up like that, being accepted in a good university wasn't beyond his possibilities.

Originally he had intended to pursue a career in law, maybe getting into politics and change the world for the better. It took him very little to realize that he had little to no respect for rules if they made people unhappy and he was far too temperamental to actually succeed in a department that required a fair level of diplomacy.

Instead he decided to be a doctor. He didn't really have any talent for the subject but at least he knew he cared enough to be dedicated and through with his eventual patients, which happened to be a rarity in modern day Japan. Maybe it wasn't everything to succeed in the department, but it was a good starting point. After all, helping people was the only thing he wanted to do in life.

He was pondering exactly that as he approached his house and stumbled upon a scene that chilled his blood.

A woman, by the look of it, dressed in a form fitting business suit laid face down on the asphalt, arms at her sides, like she had just toppled forward without bothering to break her fall.

"Hey! Hey, are you alright?"

Later he admitted to himself that it was probably the most idiotic question in history of idiotic questions, but what else was he supposed to ask?

He rushed to her side and he was greatly relieved to see that she was still breathing. Carefully he turned her around, revealing a short haired woman of foreign origins. She was rather pale but Shirou couldn't see anything outwardly wrong with her.

Cradling her torso in his arms her shook her slightly.

"Hey, what happened? Are you hurt?"

Red eyes opened and met his golden gaze. Time seemed to slow for an eternity until-

**_GROOOOWL.._**

"Hungryyyy..." the woman moaned pitifully in his arms and all that Shirou could do was not face-fault in response.

* * *

**An hour later: - Emiya household**

Shirou had to reconsider one the cardinal beliefs upon which his life was founded. One of those unshakable truths that defined his life and that upon being shattered left him like a child scared of the darkness. That belief being: no one can eat more than Fujimura Taiga.

And yet…

"Ahhh…" the woman finally sighed after finishing her fifth consecutive bowl of rice, consumed practically without breathing. "That was a life saver. Thank you," the woman said bowing in gratitude.

"You're welcome," Shirou replied, caught between relief and sheer horror. "Are you feeling better now?"

"Yes. Five days without eating surely can weaken one down."

"Five days? Why have you gone so long without eating anything?" Shirou asked. The question could sound a little stupid if one didn't keep in mind that the foreign woman was dressed in an impeccable business suit, the farthest thing from a beggar Shirou could think of.

"I lost my wallet," she said dejectedly, "and my passport. And my phone. And I got late to my interview for a job because I spent time looking for it. Without money I got kicked out of the hotel where I was staying. It's the third time it happened."

"I'm sorry for you," Shirou cringed. Talk about a streak of bad luck. "I suppose there isn't anyone you could have called to send you what you need."

"I… kinda had a fight with my family a few years back. We never really spoke since," she explained.

"Well, there's no helping it then. You can stay here until you find a way to get back on your feet."

"Eh? No, I really can't impose on you like that. You already offered me dinner and I don't even… Oh my God. I didn't even introduce myself. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it."

"I'm Bazzet Fraga McRemitz, from England."

"Emiya Shirou," he shook her hand. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, McRemitz-san."

"The pleasure is all mine Emi-… Emiya-san?"

"Uh, yes?"

"Any… any relation to Emiya Kiritsugu?" she asked, her jovial tone suddenly disappearing in favor of a cold voice.

"Uh. That's would be my father. Why, did you know him?"

"You could say that," she said with obvious caution. "I wasn't aware he had a son. Do you think I could speak with him?"

"That could be a problem, actually."

"Why would it be?" she narrowed her eyes and tightened her fist.

"He's dead," he replied pointing at the commemorative photo hanged near the ceiling. Bazzet eyes bulged as she stared at the picture.

"Dead?" she squeaked. "Oh, you gotta be kidding me. When did it happen?"

"It's been five years now," he replied.

"Five… five years? Why didn't anyone knew of it?" she raged before jumping over the table and grabbing a startled Shirou by the collar of his shirt. "Who did it? Who offed the Magus Killer?"

"Offed..? Magus Killer? Wait, you're a Magus too?"

Realizing that she had her hands busy while the young man had both of them free, Bazzet jumped back. It was useless though, because Shirou was already on her with blinding speed. Bazzet prepared herself to be struck down like a newbie but the blow never came.

"Please teach me," he pleaded, kneeling on the floor in front of her, forehead touching the ground.

"… Eh?"

"Dad died before he got to teach me anything useful about Magecraft. He said I had no talent but I know he was just too lazy to bother. I had to pester him to teach me Magic for years before he decided to tell me anything. Bazzet-san, teach me please."

"I.. uh…"

"Please. You can stay here as long as you want. I'll cook for you every day."

"Uh… well…," she stuttered at loss for words. Had the boy no shame? How could he ask to a Magus from another family to share her mysteries? Was he really that ignorant of the way the world of Magi worked as his words intended. "Wait a moment. One of the Magus first priorities is to pass down their Magecraft to their heirs. Why wouldn't your father share his Craft and Crest with you?"

"Eh? Ah. Kiritsugu told me about family Crests and other things, but I couldn't inherit it. I'm adopted."

"Eh? Adopted? Why would a Magus adopt anyone if he didn't intend to pass down his Magecraft?"

"I wouldn't know," he replied sincerely. "Kiritsugu saved my life from a fire that burned a good portion of the city ten years ago. Maybe he just felt like following up with his actions and decided to take care of me all the way? I never really asked why he did."

"Uuhhh," Bazzet moaned, rubbing her temples. She was clearly bothered by the unexpected development.

"Please, Bazzet-san."

"Look kid… ah, whatever. You already gave me something to eat so I'm indebted to you. Tell you what, most Magecraft I know is bound to my bloodline, so I can't teach that to you but at least I can a teach you the basics if you're good enough to learn. Then when I go back to London I can introduce you to a few teachers from the Association, you know, in exchange for food and lodging."

"Yes!" he cheered. "Thank you, Bazzet-sensei."

"We'll begin tomorrow but in the mean time…" she trailed off.

"Yes?" he leaned forward.

"Can I have seconds?"

* * *

**The next day – Tool shed**

"Are you an idiot?" Bazett asked, stunned by the way Shirou accessed his Circuit. Or rather how he didn't.

"Uh?"

"No wonder you suck at all Magecrafts. You're not using your Circuits at all. How have you survived to this day?"

"Why? What am I doing wrong?" he asked as his body cooled down.

"There's no need to turn a nerve into a Circuit every time you have to access your Magecraft. Magi are born with a natural set of Circuits but you aren't using them at all. I give you points for not giving up on Thaumaturgy and not killing yourself until now, but seriously kid. You're out of your mind."

"So… I got it all wrong? Is that why I have so much difficulty?"

"Yeah. At this point it's not even an issue about your Element. You've got the basics all wrong. We need to start from scratch. This is going to take years."

**- Lunch time -**

**"Shiroooou!" **Taiga raged, "what do you mean she's going to live here from now on? What sort of shady business have you gotten yourself into? To think that you were finally improving… where have I gone wrong with you? And you… strange woman, how dare you steal my cook and my food? I'm not going to give up Shirou without a fight."

**- A few moments later: Emiya's Dojo- **

"Ugh… You're good. I never thought I could lose to an unharmed opponent," Taiga huffed, using Torashinai to support her weight. She had challenged Bazett to a duel and she was soundly beaten. " I guess I can lend you Shirou for a while."

"Oi, Fuji-nee," Shirou protested.

"Then it's a deal," Bazzet replied, shaking hands with the school teacher.

**- A week later- **

"Not bad, Shirou. You're progressing faster than I thought. You've learned Reinforcement to an acceptable level already."

"Yeah," he agreed. "It's much easier to control the flow of Prana when I don't have a burning iron rod implanted in my spine."

"Good then we can move onto more complex things: Runes and Boundary Fields."

**- A month later -**

"You're going to London for the summer?" Taiga whined. "Why?"

"There's a school I'm interested in over there. I was considering to enroll there when I graduate from high school."

"Eeeeh? No way. Who's going to cook for me, then? I can't do it by myself."

"Tough luck, Fuji-nee. Tough luck."

**- A week later: Clock Tower –**

"Shirou, this is Lord El-Melloi," Bazzet introduced. "He's going to be teaching you from now on."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lord El-Melloi. I'm looking forward to your tutoring."

The Magus, dressed in fine clothes exhaled the smoke from his cigar, eyeing the red haired boy.

"Bazzet, is this the talentless idiot you told me about over the phone?"

"Yup," she confirmed with a shameless smile.

"Oi, Bazzet…" Shirou whispered. "Did you really have to call me like that?"

"Don't worry, Emiya-kun," the other man replied. "I wouldn't be interested in you otherwise."

"What do you mean, Lord El-Melloi?"

"That's a mouthful. Just call me Waver in private and professor in public. As for your question, I've been trying to prove for years that effort and willpower can surpass talent and family history. You're going to be my student and in exchange I'm going to sponsor you."

"Sponsor me?" Shirou squeaked. "Isn't that something all Magi aspire to have? You can't possibly be thinking of sponsoring me because I'm talentless."

"Well, to be completely honest, I'm somewhat indebted to your foster father," Waver explained. "I was planning on repaying my debt this way."

"Really? What did Kiritsugu do for you?"

"He landed me this sweet job and title," the Magus explained, patting the expensive looking chair he was sitting on.

"How did he do that?"

"He killed that asshole of my predecessor, of course," Waver grinned.

"Huh," was all that Shirou could say to that.

**- Later: Clock Tower –**

"Emiya?"

"Tohsaka?"

**"You're a Magus?"** they both asked in shock, each pointing at the other.

"I'm going out on a limb and guess that you know each other," Bazzet chuckled.

"No shit, Sherlock," Shirou grumbled under his breath. "I can believe Issei was right all along. '_She's a demon, a witch,'_ he kept saying. I always thought he was out of his mind."

"Emiya-kun," Tohsaka said with false sweetness. "What else did you and Ryuudo-kun have been saying about me?"

"Uh, nothing. Hey Bazzet…"

"You're on your own kid," the older woman replied as she got away from the soon-to-be scene of a crime. "You've gotta learn how to handle your girlfriend. Later!"

"She's not my… Wait ,Tohsaka… What are you doing, pointing your finger at me like that? Why is your Crest shining? Wait, wait, wait… Uaaaah!"

"Run for your life, Emiya!" she roared, sending shot after shot of her Grandr spell after the escaping teen.

In the distance Bazzet laughed at her friend's misfortune. Things were going to be interesting with him around.

* * *

**No Fate: END**

* * *

AN: Yeah, not much to say about this one. The core of this plot bunny is Kiritsugu actually stopping the Grail before kicking the bucket. I'm probably not going to expand on this one, but makes for a good basis to write a fic about Shirou becoming an Enforcer without the HGW. Or anyone who would like to write this can make it so that Kiritsugu's intervention only slowed down the charging of the Grail and the war takes place ten years later than canon.

The notable plot devices to keep in mind are

- Gilgamesh and Kirei rampaging through the world if the Grail is actually destroyed

- Sakura's life

- Shirou's relationship with Bazzet as her pupil and later as lovers

- Tohsaka being a Tsundere at the clock tower

It's pretty much an open-world Nasuverse setting. If anyone wants to pick it up, go right ahead.

The next chapter is going to be either **Fate/Bloodbite **or **Weight of a Promise**


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